I wrote another small story yesterday.
The words came to me in Balboa Park while I listened to my friend Mitchell playing didgeridoo. People walking down El Prado would pause before the strange, resonant instrument. A brave few would dance.
As people came and went, I wondered what effect their movement might have on the planet. Both Mitchell and I are curious about strange, cosmic things.
The title of my short story is Spinning the Earth.
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